


Mcyt Oneshots and Drabbles

by itsferrisbtw



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Body Horror, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Horror, M/M, Multi, Murder, Thriller, but REQUEST, good fluff here an there babes, listen i just write murder when da brain ask, no beta we die like men, request or your straight/j, theres ONE THOUSAND OF YOU WHERE R THEY
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:08:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27750532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsferrisbtw/pseuds/itsferrisbtw
Summary: My brain has so much fuckig brainrot please help meAnywaysI have this on wattpad too but i crave attention so (joke)This'll be a weird mix of whatever i feel like writing. A lot of fluff but i kinda went oh SHIT on the first chapter
Relationships: Charlie Dalgleish/Travis | Traves, Darryl Noveschosch/Technoblade, Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Ted Nivision/Noah | Hugbox, Wilbur Soot/Charlie Dalgleish
Comments: 19
Kudos: 123





	1. Thrill Kill

**Author's Note:**

> If you take anything of this seriously like its NOT fiction im taking your bones, Making them into a fine paste, a cream an into my coffee. And i hate coffee so you will be THROWN
> 
> Never show these to the fuckin ones being wrote about if you do your legit WACK  
> and NOT THE GOOD WACK
> 
> Anyways  
> This is literally for fun  
> This is gonna have a lot more rarepairs than your gonna expect and HONESTLY if you get attached too with brainrot thank god bc i need friends with the same ship interest  
> I blame my best friend for a MAJORITY of my brainrot  
> Also not all of these are mcyt youtubers. Like they play minecraft but their not considered MAINLY minecraft. So heads up lol
> 
> SO SIT BACK  
> Relax  
> And enjoy the show

_A/n's:_  
 _• Ship- Schlattbur but_ _uhhhh_ _,,,,_ _ahaha_  
 _• Theme- Graphic Violence mentioned, Horror/Thriller_  
 _•_ _TWs_ _: Description of murder, Violence, Blood and Gore_ _, implication of sexual themes_

─────── ∘°❉°∘ ───────

**Red lights.**  
 **Red,** **blaring** **lights.**  
 **A tight, compact room.**  
 **Was there anything at all?**  
 **Or was it the fear within the darkness?**

For nothing but a blood bath of lights in the small room, few things had hung tenderly onto the string they were stuck to. Even for a delirious mind, reaching up for the photos above was a joy to those, prideful of his years long worth of hard work. For a single moment, captured into a frame that would last as long as his breath would hold him for in this thrill of a new life. The self-same breath which had subsided, leaving him weightless once more, an impatient grip at the edge of one of the photos.

And for a moment, for a bit longer than he had planned, he was truly happy with this kind of horrific fantasy he'd made a reality for himself. His pride, his ego, his wanting for absolute control had seemed to infect him with a horrible, _disgusting_ desire he had for things. All from a very, **very** , special... 'Guest', of his... An old lover.

The room in question had once been a storage room, a place where people stored their precious memories and belongings away, love and joy. Now that all remained of the room was a faint metallic smell, red blaring lights, photos and the required materials, all stacked rather neatly on the black metal shelves. The dread of silence, or the comfort of it, were the only two ways to have this little side room described, away from the main room... Where the fun actually happened.

But what was all of this?  
How did he even get to **_here?_**

A very simple question paired with a very simple answer. Fascination, and thrill. Maybe something with feeling the high of it all, or maybe it was to feel powerful. Nobody knew, and nobody _would_ know. To his outer friend group, he was completely normal! The same Wilbur his friends grew to know and love.

Like an older brother to his friend Tommy who never batted an eye at his sometimes odd schedule, or Fundy which had an odd schedule himself online, but they called frequently enough. Phil, George- Others in their little group. Even if he did lie quite often about his previous whereabouts whenever asked, he knew nobody would know about the first...

Well, until a certain familiar face had came right to his whereabouts. Either call it fate, or bad timing, but Wilbur really wasn't expecting to see his boyfriend from years ago... Especially in the role as a detective. **Homicide** , specifically. It was almost charming, but at the same time- he only came here for **his** case. It made him feel.... _special_.

Someone might be wondering a lot of things, if they had a mere glance into Wilbur's head. Either at his past, or the current day. In the past back in high school, he had a fine home. His mother an father were fine. Everything was really perfect, in some books. Maybe a little too, fine. His mother never really came home from work until the late hours of the night, and the few times Wilbur did hear her it was soon shushed by what he could only guess to be his father. Neither of them acted distant, and things were bland as ever. _Of course he'd want to change that._

He wanted to be risky. He wanted to try the wild side of things. For being such a suck up teachers pet, he knew what to do and say to get what he wanted; and this applied to his surrounding people, as well. Taking girls or guys on dates just to pass at things he could've done, but couldn't care to do. Then manipulate at his bidding, silence, repeat. All to really get what he wanted. It was never enough, but it was the fun in lying that made him want more.

Until one of his classmates, Jason Schlatt. One that never let up from his resting bitch face, and had a lot more spunk than the rest of them. Not really a trouble maker, but he never really watched his mouth when he spoke the truth. One that Wilbur had wanted to know what he thought of _him._ But to his surprise, it was never like what he expected to happen. Making his effort to know him, to flatter him, to get to see what he could really offer- that last plan? Went entirely off the table.

Jason had grown softer around him, honest, but... He was secretly a desperate for affection baby, who just wanted the eyes and attention, the type that Wil had given to him. And Wil didn't like how easily these feelings fluttered in return in him. Oh he **_hated_** it. He wanted to burn every single possible thing about him out of his memory, but he sat only wanting more of Jason's attention. The hell he wanted to raise had only subsided, as Jason was his primary focus now.

Jason was a geek when the two would chat privately- either about rams, or mythology- which he was surprisingly good at.. Or even just being funny, and even just acting like best friends to Wilbur's parents was nothing to the lessened bedroom lights as the two would frequently sit in the dark, running their hands through each others hair, nothing was really between them except the few moments they made that really made the first time count. Jason was something else, to him. The one thing he wanted to hold onto and never let go. _Him._

But something always seemed to... Bother, Wilbur. Something about how Jason acted about his parents. He was always so quiet about them, and often it wasn't for how they were possibly normal, either. Murmurs from Schlatt had only given Wil a unfinished painting of the truth.

His parent's weren't home a lot, and when they were it never was a good interaction unless he complied, never do what he wanted but missed the warmth that another being could give him.

Is that why Jason was so in need of his attention? His affection, to let him do or talk about whatever he pleased, even if the two might've got hurt in the end?

Those alone, could've pulled the strings. Reawaken that _need_ for something new. Not in Jason... But from what Jason surrounded himself with. It was a motive. A spark among a landmine, covered with gasoline. Something that would really hit, for when they would be at the very end of their high school year. A single night that Jason had stayed the night at Wilbur's house again, and where history took off from there.

Wilbur wanted to forever capture his work into something. Something easy to hide, but didn't just go away in time. Even if he knew this was behind his boyfriends back, it was for the better of him, right? Right?? Not really. It was for satisfaction, relief, an untouched addiction all in one measly act.

The night that Jason had fallen sound asleep in Wilbur's bed, was the time for him to go. It was still a blur to him even today on how he'd gotten to Jason's house without him forgetting where it was- or easily getting lost. But he had somehow did it then.. Jason had told him that night it would only be his mother home, but little did he know that plans had **changed.**

The view into the brightly lit windows from a distance, and seeing not just one, but two shadows roaming had worried him. Maybe it was the first to finally feel fear, when he should've felt it from the beginning, but he already came this far, with his dad's unused tool's tucked quietly in a small bag under his dark jacket. His dad never tinkered with anything anyways, what would he notice?

It was late- what, 1:30 in the morning?? It had to be somewhere around there, as he carefully made his way to one of the cracked windows, only to hear the clinking of glass within the room. He couldn't see in, though... _"Marie,_ _c'monn_ _.. one more drink..."_ "Clayden we've already had enough-" _"your still sober though, c'mon, your husband isn't just gonna come in the dead of the night from work..."_ Well that would be some news to break to his boyfriend. That his mom was going with someone else. Maybe he already knew, though, and only kept his mouth shut about it to stay safe...

A few unclear words from the Woman- Marie, and hearing a soft clacking on the tile floors. This could work. The man was drunk, and wanting her. Her easy rejection made this a case that would be easy from a normal view. Drunk affair lead to violence. Why did this... Excite, him so much? Not in the weird way- but the idea of breaking into a home, just to ruin someone elses life. Someone he loved. It was _exhilarating,_ but he didn't need to dwell on that now.

Now was for walking to another side of the house, to try and get a good look from the inside of what was going on. A look into the living room, and seeing a tv light glowing faintly with multi-colors, flashing across the drunk mans face. He'd never seen him before, but he looked considerably younger to be dating a mother. Oh well. He didn't know what the woman even looked like. But the man in question looked.. tired. He didn't seem like the angry drunk, just a tired, needy and sex-wanting drunk.

This, didn't matter. He wasn't the target of Tonight...

However, going back towards the kitchen window and going further, lead him into a wide view of a hallway. Curtains were covering a majority of his view, but he could see four doors. Three on the right and one with light peeking out of it. The kitchen, right? Kitchen lead to living room, then what was the others? Sliding past the window, and lifting himself up a bit higher to see through the tiny window, and into the view of what was a warmly lit bedroom. The parents room, with specifically: Marie, laying on the bed.

His memory was hazy of what expression she was giving then, an what exactly was going on due to the blinds covering the window, but he did note that it wasn't covered by a screen... He doubted itd be locked, if the other windows weren't. A soft clink could be heard from the room, and he only guessed she had a bottle of- something, in her hands. Wine? Maybe... But it didn't matter. She didn't look like she was getting up any time soon...

Quietly moving to the next window- it was a lot smaller than he'd prefer, but it gave him a perfect glance into the bathroom. A cover for the shower, the dark room and the mirror reflecting the moonlight, and-  
 _click_  
a soft click, and soon the window opened smoothly for him. A perfect way in. Adjusting himself and lifting himself in, he attempted to make it in as quietly as possible.. having to get a hold on the sink to gently place himself fully down in the room, and the move to hide in the shower. It was terribly comical, like a classic horror film.. but it was dark, and it worked. If she'd enter, that is.

Just for the moment in the tub alone- it felt like such a violation of someones privacy... But that was the fun part, wasn't it? He only got a half painted portrait of what these people were like, and if he did this right, he'd be off scott free. Out, in the world, living with the knowledge that tonight he would've killed a woman. For **fun.** He only hoped it'd be fun, at least. It was such a change of possibly being such a good person, to be here, waiting to kill somebody.

On him, he had some of his dads tools. A hammer, wrench- a few other things, and then a kitchen knife... He knew better than to grab a pathetic box cutter, or a pocket knife. How else would he frame it on someone from the very house itself?

He didn't know what time it was, but there was a soft squeak of the bathroom door as it had opened a smidge, yet the person hadn't bothered to turn the lights on, the scuffle on the floor and soon, a soft thump. The shadow had shown him, who it was. Marie, having her head over the toilet- which he could only guess she was trying to throw up. This was it, the moment.

Hearing the light heaving from the woman herself, he had carefully pulled out the knife- he was shaking. He was shaking, but he had to stay calm. He was shaking, because he was about to take someones life, and maybe this idea wouldn't work. But it had to. Even with all things considered _it had to._ Moving to slowly close the door shut, he had slowly stepped out, locking the door behind him, as the footsteps had gotten her attention. The careful, unsurely slow glance to the towering figure, only a shadow of what she could see as a face, had been right then and there.

Neither, of them moved right away. She was frozen, holding onto the ground- or whatever she could hold from it as she stared dead ahead at the tall figure, which only seemed to bend down just a bit, to get closer to her. _**"I know everything you've done, Marie Schlatt... The affair, the abuse of who I assume your son is... Jason, right?"**_

He softly spoke, but he knew what he was doing. He can't act like he knew them personally. Tilting the knife up by her chin, her breathing seemed to hitch, as the light from the night had showed the drunk, frightened tears going down her face. **_"I was looking to get your husband too...."_** He muttered, moving the knife away, and moved his gloved hand on her face instead.

**_"I'll take what I can get."_ **

The tight hold on her face had quickly shifted to her mouth, as he soon had unknowingly grinned at the action of stabbing her in the back, multiple times. Blood flew, on the sink, on the floor, his clothes and his face too, as the blood seeped heavily through her clothes as her muffled scream went through his glove. _Keep going, keep going, keep going, keep going-_

It only got more erratic from there, the stabs now being in various places throughout her back, and the bent over had shifted to holding her head down as he forcefully kept plunging the knife into her back. _**Again, again, again, again, again-**_

He wasn't thinking  
He wasn't thinking at all, at how soaked his glove was by this, at how much she had stopped struggling- the blood leading to puddle the floor. This was **_exhilarating._** He wanted to breathe, hold himself in the moment and watch her final breaths ... But it wouldn't last forever. Grabbing the camera from his bag, he soon shakily stepped back a bit... _Snap!_ _ **The first memory had been made ...**_

This, though... Was an awful job. He was covered, jacket an pants wise. And the pinned wouldn't have any on him.. gently unlocking the door, he soon stepped out into the hall, and headed to the kitchen. The soft and silent open of the already cracked door, had shown a jacket laying on the far counter. Grabbing it, he quickly made his move in soon beginning to cover the jacket sporadically in the blood of Marie, who was limp. He couldn't see her breathing, but he could've just been too rushed to fully look. And soon enough, throwing the jacket down on the hallways floor.

Tip-toeing through the rest of the hall, he only assumed the last room was Jason's. He didn't need to look in there, though, what he was wanting to see, was the back of the drunks head. He could hear the soft snoring, among the loud tv going off. Making his way in, he gently began to take of his own gloves, only to see his own hands had been soaked from the blood that seeped though it. Though, he wiped it off on his jacket- the clean part, as he gently tapped the mans shoulder... Would he wake up?

....

He didn't.

He seemed to be fully knocked out, as he now took the chance to go around the couch, and slip on the gloves on the mans hands, and smudging marks on his arms- when he could. He didn't want to wake him up. But when the deed was done, he carefully placed the knife by his hands, and soon enough, there Wilbur went.

Out of the window he came from, and a blurry, jittery walk back home. Back where he belonged. A gentle opening of the door with his not smudged hand, and just.... Stopping. He did it. He did it, and he could get away with it. He'd have to print the photo later- but the rest of the night was foggy to him after coming down from the high of the thrill. Cleaning himself up and- hed dispose of the clothes eventually. Which he did, of course. But after that was quietly climbing in bed with Jason- only for him to stir awake.

He couldn't remember their conversation, but they were here now.

That night lead to a heartbreak in the morning, Jason being notified- as the father was the one to find his wife. As he expected the man tried to run, but left his coat behind... Things maybe didn't make sense here and there, but it was considered a clear case, and only a few months after the event, he'd offered jason to come move away with him, but he denied. For his father an his mental health.. the father was a broken, departed man from then. And Jason was going to spend that time while he could...

It seemed that Wilbur just. Vanished, for too many years from Jason's life. Of course Jason missed him dearly, but he made that choice. He made that choice to stay behind, for what happened to his mother he couldn't let something like that- happen again... _Making his goal, to be a Homicide Detective..._

And now, they were here. In and under the same roof. Wilbur let out a deep sigh, as he turned to the shelves behind him, and crouched down to the lower boxes, and gently began rummaging for what he could see. "H-hey... Is anybody fuckin' here?" He heard the familiar voice pipe up from the other room, and soon pulled out a framed photo from the box.... Marie....

Gently knocking the back out of the frame, he carefully held the picture once more, after .... How many years? It felt like such a short time ago... 2? 3? Maybe even 4. It didn't matter. This, was the first. The most memorable...

Opening the door just a tad, he peeked out to the man strapped down into the chair, and he couldn't help but to think that- _he maybe still loved that man, even to today..._ Jason didn't seem to notice him though, as the dried blood on his head was bothering him, and trying to look around... But saw not much of anything. Until, Wilbur had stepped out.

"Jason.... It's so nice to see you again" Wilbur said with a flat smile on it face, and the man seeming to tense up in the chair, looking up at him. "I can't say the same to you, pal..." He grumbled, but it only made the other smile. That was the Schlatt he always wanted to see. To experience..

Making his way over, he looked to a farther over table, hidden in the dark of the rather barren basement. It had his supplies. Maybe even a game of Russian Roulette. He was feeling extra generous today... "... Wil- I didn't fuckin' expect to see you here, I came to just... Solve a case..." "And you did, yeah? By finding big ole' me at the very end!" Wilbur spoke enthusiastically, giving himself a thumbs up that only seemed to put a bloody sour taste in Jason's mouth.

"At the _very_ fucking end... It was you. I couldn't link shit to you because you didn't know any of them, no one could'a said they last saw you with them- cause nobody fuckin' recognized you. Wil-..... why the fuck are you doing this?" Jason had gone on and on and on- till the softest whisper escaped him at the very end.

"It's all for fun... Thrill... The exhilarating feeling of leaving the photos I hate as even a tip of the tongue clue of what happened... Jason- Jason.... Jason.... " He said his name a few times, placing his hands on the mans shoulders, feeling him tense up more than he wanted to. "I missed you, so- so much...." He whispered, and both were silent for a long moment...

The detective thought Wilbur didn't care for him anymore, due to not bothering to reach out, or do anything- he was always in the back of his mind, to be someone to reach to again, to give him that _one_ feeling. "... Wil, w-we were in high school..." "Yeah? And? You were the first and last person I have- ever, loved in my life... And considering your career, you'd say the same yeah...?" The gentle voice, the voice that always fucking comforted him in the worst spots.... Jason mistakingly, had slightly let his guard down.

".... Yeah...."  
"Then be with me... Again. We can feel like we're teenagers all over again- past this bullshit and just us..." He offered, Wilbur moving in front of him as he gently held Jason's bloodied face to face him. A almost desperate look in his eyes, that seemed to fearfully reciprocate to Schlatt.

"... I-I need time to think about that wil-"  
"If i give you time, you'll call the cops, J... "  
" N-no I just-" he stopped himself. He felt so conflicted, even if he knew Wilbur would never change from this. But he caught sight of the photo that Wilbur had a hold of... And seeing it only seemed to make him paler than before.

That was his mother. Dead, slumped over his old houses toilet and blood was- everywhere.... He could only feel himself being light headed from all od this, and Wilbur's expression finally fading.

"Y-.... You killed my fuckin' mom..... Your the fucking prick- that killed my own mother.... "  
"It was for your safety... For the better.... But maybe its time for you to join her. " His voice dropped as Jason felt as if the air had been knocked out of him again as he saw Wilbur moving to the table, panic soon ensuing.

 _"Wil- Wilbur please-- I-I don't wanna fuckin' DIE like her- please please- I-"_  
 _"_ Schlatt...."  
 _" I'll keep o-our old promises- I'll keep my mouth shut I'll never tell a-a fuckin' SOUL- FUCK-- PLEASE Wil--"_

The shorter male had genuinely.... Sobbed. He was desperate to live, he was really that desperate to live.

And maybe..  
He would let him.

He grabbed a small kitchen knife off the table anyways, and heading back over to him, and seeing him recoil in pure fear of what was to happen. Entirely different from his mother. He looked absolutely horrified beyond what he'd imagined. _"Just do it- get it the f-fuck- over with"_ Jason had begged over his tiny soft sobs of pleas, but Wilbur sighed...

A tender, careful kiss on his bloodied forehead, and wrapping his arms around Jason's scrunched shoulders.

_**"I think I'll let you live.. with me... Sound's fun, yeah? You'll see what i mean by thrill...."** _

─────── ∘°❉°∘ ───────


	2. Hoodies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rarepair brainrot.........

_A/n's:_  
 _• Ship- TravesCicle/ Travis x Charlie -_ _RAREPAIR_  
 _• Theme- Sof.... just fluff ......_  
 _•_ _TWs_ _: None_

─────── ∘°❉°∘ ───────

Among their group of friends, it was easy to say a surprise among all of them when they admitted to dating each other. Travis was the first to crack under the simple questioning from Coop of why he and Charlie had been so close as of late- and it slipped. Through a quiet and somber 'i love him', a no thoughts stare into nothing- and soon a full-blown panic when he'd realized what he had said _right_ to Cooper.

Though, it wasn't the reaction that Travis was expecting out of Cooper when he had admitted it. Just an easy look of surprise and a shrug of the shoulder- "hey, good for you man!" "Nooo- Coop you don't understand..." "Hey, chill, it's fine-" Cooper had laughed a bit, patting his friend's shoulder a bit. "You love the guy and he's a pretty good fit for you, I'm not gonna like- make fun of you for it. Anyways... Wanna make some grilled cheese?"

A calm reaction, and just what Travis really needed as a good friend to calm down and explain things to. He and Charlie had only been dating for around a month, but even then- Charlie was wanting to tell. But he didn't want to say without his okay.

Even his streams had noticed at times the larger hoodies that he wore while playing games, or just seeming happier in general about it- whatever was making him that way. Multiple had theorized and (lightly) bullied him in donations mentioning he must've found someone- but he kept quickly shutting the idea down and using his voice effects to divert the topic.

But when the egg cracked- Travis in this case, soon it'd fry over. They both had eventually admitted to their friends of what was going on, and really? Half of them were already suspecting it. Especially Ted. He knew something was going on, and more times than not when they were all out had caught the two either staring into space or at each other. Funny enough when Charlie had got snapped out of a daze when a freezing splash of cold water had struck his face with a water gun. Thank Noah on that one.

And by now, it was just a regular overcast fall afternoon. They were stuck inside, and it was only Charlie and Travis there- the others were out doing their own thing. They didn't live together of course, but it was often they stayed together for a few days. Even for it being freezing and slick out with rain, it was Charlie who wasn't bothering to stream that day- like he originally wanted to do.

He was curled up on the couch, seeming like a ball inside of the larger hoodie that he wore while nothing interesting was playing on the tv. It really was just a lazy day, watching whatever came on. But for Travis, he was the one streaming. It was first animal crossing but shifted to Minecraft when he'd quickly ran out of ideas for it- or got distracted. Though, he had frequently chatted with his chat as they mention sometimes him and Charlie- god word spread fast...

"Stopp- I'm not gonna talk about it yet!! Maybe later but I gotta- mm its cold.. " he seemed to stop the game for just a second, laughing at the chat as they went off on him. "COLD... Cold cold cold- chat is it cold? Wait-" his chat couldn't feel it, and from the looks of it it was either a mix of laughter or going COLDCOLDCOLDCOLD-

Of course, even moving to get up, he had realized he had... A majority of his hoodie's missing. Even the good ones. "Chattttttt... How does- do- I don't have hoodies- no stoppp!!! Stop I'm not stealing!!! Crimes not on today's agenda... Tax fraud.. I think I know where most of them went..."

He mentioned but didn't continue the game. "I'll be back chat! Ummm don't go barking- that's for tonight's later stream" he asked them quietly, even if he knew it'd only make them do it, and out of the room, he went. "Charlieeee...." He called out, heading to where he had heard the noises of the tv softly going on, and soon leaning over the couch where he had seen Charlie, who had been curled up in the hoodie that- originally, belonged to him.

"Yeeahh? What's up Travvy?"  
"I need my hoodie back.." he had pouted, and Charlie had only seemed to laugh rather mischievously to the idea. "Thennn... _You gotta get it from me._ " he grinned with a suspicious grin. " _In_ teresting... I thought I let you borrow it- not keep it... " And Charlie had only seemed to pause for a moment. Travis didn't get it, but had sat up on the couch to where he was at head level with him- waiting for him to try and get the simple ask for a kiss.

Though, back where Travis wasn't watching- please, the chat could partly hear and they were going WILD. They either had jumped to conclusions of the implications or were freaking out- some were still barking away, and some were trying to keep the peace. Which was going horribly wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.

Though, it clicked after a bit for Travis as he seemed to go red, and looking away for a moment with a stupid smile on his face. The room didn't exactly feel that cold anymore, even for the soft patter of rain hitting at the windows, and the light of the TV shining behind him, both of them just seemed to just sit there for a moment "Uh..... Are you sure?" He softly asked as Charlie seemed a bit taken back by the obvious question- only getting a laugh out of him. "Of course??? Hold on-"

Even through the silly giggle escaping Travis, the two of them had a sweet tiny kiss- which had only seemed to explode into a bunch more of tiny kisses from charlie, and the giggle becoming full-blown laughter. The two of them really, really loved just the sudden moments like this. Even for not being together very long, they had a lot to look forward to it seemed, even with just tiny interactions like this.

"Charlie!!- Charlie c'mon! -" _"You're the one who tried to take this precious hoodie off me! This is payback!!-"_ " AUGFH- no!!!"

Their little war of Travis trying to get the hoodie back- and Charlie trying to distract him from taking said precious hoodie had died down after a bit, an enjoyable sigh escaping the both of them, as Travis kept his head practically leaned on the other, and had gently tugged on the Hoodie he had wanted back, his stream was waiting on him. "C'mon Charlie, charbee, charcie-" he snickered a bit, as Charlie had sighed, and gave in. Soon taking off the Hoodie and handing it to his boyfriend.

"Can I have it back when you're done?"  
"Mmm.. no! You can join my stream though, it's Minecraft.." Travis giggled as the other had seemed to only get cold himself, jumping off the couch and seeming to already be a step ahead of him, heading to the room.

_"I'm getting that hoodie back eventually!!"_   
_"No, you_ _**WON'T** _ _"_


	3. Please, waste my youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You might get hints of writing inspiration of another book on here. Like super popular rn. An goes by a song name. Teehee

_A/n's:_   
_• Ship- Badnoblade/_ _Technoblade_ _x_ _Badboyhalo_ _-_ _rarepair_   
_• Theme- Sof.... just fluff ......_ _Again......_   
_•_ _TWs_ _: None_

_─────── ∘°❉°∘ ───────_

_If Techno right then, had wanted to waste the rest of his life_   
_Right in his arms_   
_He could've._

A wonderfully vicious and exasperating dance of emotions could've been told from the two, like a waltz in a hall of fire, a demon tail hidden away from sight and a pig mask loosened from the surrounding flame. Each graceful and longing, unsure step that internally Techno felt he was taking, was like walking on rose petaled cracks, slowly and lovingly trying to drag him further into the emotional turmoil that he was going through right then. In a hall of flames and the windows shattering down in the heat of it all, that heat was the desire constantly felt in him. With _him_.

_Did he feel it too?_

For bad, a flame had became an arson's game, of how long could one avoid the flame. The hide and seek act of how long he could run from the idea that Techno- was really... For _him._ The idea was terrifying all on its own, rather than a waltz, it felt like a game of tag that could shatter his life into two if he wasn't careful of the rose petal cracks. But, he wasn't. He was slowly falling further, and further, and further into the pits these cracks had carved his fate for. One he wasn't ready to handle. 

But both lie there, alone.

Both wanted something so much more, but one held desire in the aching palm of their hand, and another felt fear. This had all only bursted after one, sole comment muttered from the other. Tender words, whispered into a mic on a private call. 

"... Bad?"  
"Hm? Yeah, whats up muffin?"  
"Your not streaming yet, are you...?"

Careful words that had caught him off guard, feeling a familiar sense of... Dread? What was it? 

"I need to get something off my chest.."  
"...W-well you go right ahead!- I'll start setting things up and-"  
" Just us, please..."

The tightening of his chest had only felt worse at this point, and only the subtle noticing things off about his own room. The Early morning light gently beginning to come through the blinds, the reflection of his messy bed in the back, the tilted shade of the lamp, he hadn't even bothered to put on his glasses, to stay as a _person_ was almost exhausting in this form. Being a demon had felt _wrong...._ But so _homely_ around him. Terrifying, but reassuring...

".. Well yeah, alright muffin! Go whenever you're- um.. ready!"

An uncomfortable silence, making him tug at the end of his shirt nervously. _He could run right then, but the arson would only catch up_

"I think about you, a lot..."  
"... What?"   
"I think about _you._ You and how- I wanna run through a fire with you... But you put that fire, and _i don't want it extinguished"_  
 _"... Tech?"_  
 _"_ There's so many things I wanna say.... I just- I don't know how to say it.. "

The softest of painful whispers from the other end of the call. Both of them, were struggling. And the arson was only catching up right behind him. The slow creeping sense of familiarity, yet fear, had seemed to shift him from the form he often showed, back to having a hidden demon tail.   
He wasn't devilish. He didn't want this. Why now?

_"... Are you there?"_

_He didn't want to be_

_".... Y-Yeah..."_

_But the arson was behind him, a crack only worsening more than a petal._

**"I wanna waste my life with you... I-I hope I didn't overstep-"**

_There it was_

The words that made him want to end the call right then, but he _couldn't._ Even before this, being on calls with Techno was both mesmerizing and horrifying. He was scared of the future that could've laid with him, if they held each other. 

_The arsonist was holding him._   
_And it was himself._

The frequent sleepless nights after a dream that couldn't leave his mind. It was so out of the blue, but his mind had given him the peculiar dream anyways.   
_The red and blue flashing lights_  
 _The whispers in the forever rushing wind_  
 _He could only hold onto his horns right then for some reassurance, until he saw the driver._

_Techno._

At first he was confused, why would his good friend be driving away from the lights that never seemed to catch up? But he seemed so focused on driving that the cops had only melted into the distance of the strange dream, as Bad had soon had a sudden hold of the rough cloak that he wore when the car had stopped. His fingers had only seemed to melt against the hold though, a rose golden dusting of a glowing glimmer had seeped through the cracks, and the same had only seemed to apply to him when Techno had tenderly placed his hand near the back of his neck.

The touch that felt like fire, on already burning skin. Velvet sparks and Rose Gold, the two had seemed to mix with one another as _he_ was the first to make a move, melting into the hold more. The car had almost unknowingly faded right into the scene of Bad's own bedroom, as he felt like he wasn't in control here. The tight grip on Techno's arm had only moved to be closer to him, as Bad had been the one to kiss him. It was like melting into an ever growing ocean of sparks and flames, as there was no rejection of this by the other. 

_"Are you safe?"_   
_"What..?"_   
_"When you touch fire, do you get burned?"_   
_"... Not with you, no"_   
_"Are you sure?"_

With lips departed to speak, they only got closed again by the other. He felt right there, skin on fire but not a single burn on him. Melting into the bedsheets of his own bed, is where the demon had held the others face carefully, a tight chest and a pang in him that wanted to wake up, but there was no effort to as he spoke softly again.

_"I can't burn you..."_   
_"You already have, Bad.."_   
_"Where?"_   
_"Inside"_

And a painful awakening, as he had woken from the freezing room, the morning light blinding his eyes as it seemed to only direct right at him. The covers kicked off, and a horrible burning- _wanting,_ from the inside. 

_"Y.... You didn't, overstep...."_

He had only felt the dread growing, instead of loosening like he hoped it would. 

_"I don't know if im- ready, to feel this too..im_ _scared_ _to"_

_".. I'm willing to wait for when you are..."_

_"I-... I love you- so much it hurts.... And I'm scared to- get hurt by something like you.. but I want it... "_

Bad had gasped out the confession, the tightness in his chest only drifting partly away. 

_"I want you..."_   
_"Then have me"_

_Maybe today he wouldn't stream_   
_Maybe today, he could let himself burn_

_─────── ∘°❉°∘ ───────_


	4. Its Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by JSCHLATTS_BIGGEST_SIMP ! You can request drabbles n oneshots! Some don't even gotta b romantic! Have an au idea? Feel free to comment!

A cold, bleary day. Darkened clouds already made the early morning feel like a deathly evening, and really, Schlatt wasn't in the mood for this kinda shitty weather. But he had been up since four, having only gotten a couple of hours sleep after a restless night.

Why he couldn't sleep? Well, he'd love to answer that, but even he didn't know the full extent of it. His mind just kept going, and going, and going. Too many thoughts about one thing, too little about what actually mattered. It was dark, in the kitchen of where he stood. A plain coffee cup in hand with sugared coffee- he wasn't the type to like straight black coffee. Gross. But it didn't matter. The taste of it didn't help him divert his thoughts at all.

_Fucking Wilbur Soot._

That man had been taking up a majority of his thoughts. For no particular reason except _every_ reason. The tall Brit bitch had mentioned he was coming over, even just for a hang out to do a stream with, and really at first he wasn't opposed. But he already forced down these thoughts before. Why couldn't he now?

That stupid fucking laugh of his  
His dumb sweaters that he let him borrow once and forgot to take back  
The merciless picking and _flirting._  
 _His dumb fucking face_  
His stupidly soft hand that he accidentally held once. _Accident._

  
In reality, he wasn't even sure if Wilbur was just being kind or actually flirting. He really did wanna believe it was just him being nice, so he could freely get drunk around him and it wouldn't turn for the worst. But something kept playing again and again in his head like a broken record- even if it wasn't that important!!

_"I really look forward to seeing you, J.."_

The bitch really had his heart tied up in relentless knots, watching the harsh rain fall from the depressing sky. Maybe if he was lucky, he'd change plans for the weather. Maybe hold it off another day. Let him sit this one out. But speak of the devil, he heard his phone _blip_ for a message, and sighed. He really does have bad luck, huh?

From Wilbur, Today at 7:32 AM:  
 _Hey, are we still on for today?_

He didn't pick up the phone. He knew what he was gonna do if he did and he would've shot himself in the foot for it later. Though just leaving the phone to sit there with the warm coffee cup still in hand, made him a bit antsy. He can't just fucking ignore something an hope it goes away-

A clack could be heard when the coffee cup got placed on the table, and soon a quick response from Jason.

From Schlatt, Today at 7:36 AM:  
 _Yea_ _im here an ready when you are. Get a fucking umbrella because natures being a bitch today_

God dammit.  
He was gonna shoot himself in the foot later if he fucked this up. Moving to turn on the lights through part of the house, he rushed himself in getting a shower and ready- and actually tidy up some of the rooms. Ignore the broken keyboards, they'd be fine. Most of the house _was_ fine, surprisingly. But that didn't matter. A decent outfit for streaming with Wilbur, but preferably a long sleeve considering how the room was cold. The heater in the room didn't work half of the time either.

It was around 8:30 when he heard loud, repetitive knocks on the door. He must've been here. Schlatt had gone quickly to the living room to open the door for him- only to find Wilbur rushing inside _without_ an umbrella. The Brit was soaking fucking wet, and the hood he was using to cover himself would've easily soaked to his actual clothes.

"... You forgot your fuckin' umbrella even though I told you to bring one." Schlatt had scoffed out a mocking laugh, seeing the taller of the two sigh in relief, and lowering his hood as he let himself warm in the house a bit, before shooting a sharp glare at the other. "I don't have one, so I didn't have much of a choice, Jason." "Oooh, the Brit doesn't have something most Brits use daily? Im shocked!" Schlatt had cackled, but.. Wilbur still looked fucking freezing. It was kinda funny, but he felt bad.

"... Just get yourself comfortable on the couch or whatever, we can stream later- I'll grab your fuckin' ice ass a blanket" He sighed, moving quickly to another room before Wilbur could say anything. But the kindness did make his already flushed face from the cold, just a smidge warmer. Wilbur liked him, a lot, he was just almost certain he didn't like him in return... It was depressing, but maybe he was wrong.

Wilbur had done exactly what he had asked from him, though. Sitting on the couch as he slipped his shoes off and removing his soaked Hoodie, all to still be damp from the rain on his yellow sweater. Schlatts house was really nice, honestly. It was very homey, warm- welcoming... Even just to curl up some on the couch with his knees to his chest was comfy. Hearing the returning footsteps though, had made him turn around to see Schlatt holding one of the more fluffier blankets. It was neatly folded, so he could only guess he didn't use it that much.

"Here- it matches your sweater.." Schlatt had taken notice that the dull yellow blanket looked near to identical of Wilburs sweater... Why was he looking?? Shaking his head quickly, he soon shoved the blanket at him, only gaining a laugh out of the taller one as he had happily wrapped himself in it. It was definitely a lot warmer. "Quite an observation, Schlatt. Do you look at my sweaters a lot??" He lightly teased at him, but had a better reaction than what he was expecting.

A quick look away from him, and grumbling something under his breath, that of which Wilbur couldn't pick up on. "it's not a fuckin' problem if I do, is it?" Schlatt had said defensively, going around the couch to soon sit by him. All while looking away from him. "No- not at all! God your defensive" Wilbur laughed, as he sat up a bit straighter than before, and soon had shared the blanket with him.

Both sat in silence, for a moment. Wilbur wanted to say something, but he was almost sure it wouldn't end well. Schlatt wanted to say something but he didn't trust himself in confessing. But eventually... One broke the silence. And that was Schlatt.

"Wilbur.... I gotta ask somethin'"

Which peaked his interest, as Wilbur tilted his head down at him, patiently waiting for whatever he had to say.

"... All the times we've ever talked, your always so- stupidly fuckin' nice. You even lent me your sweater which... I still have- but thats not the point. I-... I just wanna ask if your flirting or your just nice. I'm tired of thinking maybe it's just in my fuckin' head and maybe that your actually- into me.. for some reason... Just answer me honestly. "

Schlatt had nervously got out, and a heavy sigh at the end as he looked directly at Wilbur. The taller one, though, had been _shocked_ he wasn't the one who confessed first. Or at least- try, to confess first.

"... S-so you noticed that I was flirting with you... I lent that sweater to you- knowing you'd keep it.. or I hoped at least.. " Wilbur softly spoke, the room suddenly a lot hotter than it was before. He almost felt sick, leaning back further on the couch as the both of them were in shock.

"... Yeah- I... I love you, a lot."  
He gave Schlatt a nervous smile, while the other- well... He didn't expect to get this far. Especially with a good ending to it. Wilbur had made the cautious move to move the blanket to where it wrapped the both of them, but Schlatt wasn't opposed, as he leaned on Wilburs arm. He was nervous, but he'd get used to it eventually...

And that reciprocated in Wilbur, as he let him wrap his arms around him and hold him close, as the two cuddled in the somber silence of the rain beating against the windows.


	5. Can the ghost hear our cries too?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/n's:  
> • Ship- Schlattbur but im back with the horror lol  
> • Theme- Graphic Violence mentioned, Horror  
> • TWs: Description of murder, Violence, Blood and Gore, MAJOR WARNING FOR JUST MURDER IN GENERAL LIKE WOAH

The cold, uncertain winds of the near to dead quiet forest, Had caught both Wilbur and his boyfriend Schlatt off guard. Why were they in the forest, you might be asking? In the dead of night, with nobody except themselves... Well, they might've been ghost hunting. Because Schlatt promised he'd be the one to go with him so he wouldn't go alone. But may _god_ have mercy on their souls tonight.

The cracks of twigs underneath the heavy booted footsteps of the shorter male had sparked small talk with the two, mainly to keep their nerves in tact from the uncomfortable silence of the night. Crickets weren't heard, but the wind rustling the shielding branches above them lightly moved in the winds.

"Does it really have to be this late? Ghost ain't gonna fuckin' melt in the damn sun, or so we think.. " Schlatt whispered to the brit, who was holding multiple things for ghost hunting supplies all in a side bag being strapped by his shoulder an being bumped along his side, and a map in the right hand. The other, holding Schlatts hand.

"The best results are those in silence, Jason! Or- thats what the guide says." "well the guide is bullshit and we all know it, let's just fuckin' go back home-" "we're close to the cabin anyways, c'mon! Your not **scared** are you?" Wilbur had teased at him, but Schlatt only scoffed... This didn't feel right. For being so late, why did wilbur choose this place instead of his office?

And Wilbur definitely wasn't a master navigator, but he did actually find the old, abandoned and falling apart cabin that his friend that Schlatt never got the name of told him about. It took a lot longer from getting off trail a lot from the twigs and leaves covering the ground Making it hard to see, but they did reach the decrepit cabin.

"See? I told you I'd find it just fine!" Wilbur spoke softly among the uncomfortable silence with a ridiculous grin and a grip on his jacket, Schlatt Rolling his eyes. "don't make me tug you back to the car.. if we can even find it again" he scoffed, walking ahead of his boyfriend so they could just get this over with. Wil, on the other hand... Didn't want this to end so soon.

The old, mushy wood had creaked loudly at the harder parts of the stable foundation, but the noise had made both stop for a moment. It felt too loud, for the silence the woods gave them. Schlatt had on his mind that maybe he could distract his boyfriend from the very idea of this, and leave early. They'd probably get some weird words here and there, but... They really had no idea, did they?

With softer footsteps, and the moon's light just barely making its way through the broken windows, tree branches, the wind rushing in where it could, the two had to go to where they could only guess the dining room was that was directly across of the caved in kitchen. Something, smelled like it was rotting... The table was of dark, aged wood that seemed to stand fine against the weather that its gone through, multiple cigarette remains here and there, broken glass bottles... They clearly weren't the first two here. A soft thump on the table, clanking and a few things shuffling in the bag once it was placed down, and Wilbur had opened it up with the loud zipper taking place of the silence.. "... It's so fuckin' quite...."

Even the soft mutter from Schlatt felt like too much. Maybe it was just both of them imagining things.. silence really couldn't make someone feel like they were trapped in a horror movie, could it? "I know... But maybe it won't be when we get to work, bust these ghost out an have evidence!!" Wilbur said hopefully, yet with a smidge of sarcasm. Ghost weren't real. They never were. He had begun pulling out ''expertised'' cameras, an Ouija board, journal- all of that bullshit, and then the guide...

But Schlatt still had in mind of getting this over with quick. And why not be a dramatic shitface with it? "Hey Wil," he spoke up among the silence, taking one of the smaller flashlights in the bag and pointing it right in his face- causing the taller to cover his eyes quickly to avoid getting blinded. "Kiss me, before we get fuckin' banged by a ghost would ya?" "Jason we're not getting banged by any old ghost-" "Says you!! Kiss me dammit!" Even the dumbest of things could often make the Brit laugh.  
Even in the uncomfortable, pressuring silence like this.

Putting down the equipment on the table, he had gone over to the shorter of the two and with little to no feeling behind it, had kissed him. But this had quickly changed to a bit of a love war within it, as Schlatt had his arms wrapped around the taller's neck to have a good firm closeness to him, to make sure he'd stay close. Make him forget about this, an maybe go back to the car, and just wait till the morning. But it was him who pulled away for a bit to dead stare at him. "You can't even be bothered to put some pizazz in that?? Oh come _on_ " he jokingly complained as Wilbur laughed to this, as he went right back in with it and holding his face as well. Two dumbass boyfriends. Ya love to see it.

It was after a few minutes that they had suddenly broke off the kiss as they heard something light crash in the house. It didn't sound like old furniture just caving in, but it sounded heavy.. and like glass. "What the fuck was that?" Schlatt had been the one to speak up, as the two were still partly tangled together. Wilbur, though, didn't really respond. Just a light shrug. "It's.. probably nothing. Maybe just the ghost wanting us to get on with it" he winked, and Jason could only roll his eyes and get back to the table. "My kissing didn't blow your mind out to make you forget, damn.." he couldn't help having a grin slowly creep up on his face, as Wilbur had been lighting the tiny candles he packed as well, and placing them around the board.

Schlatt, though... He really didn't like the idea of this. Being handed a pencil and journal, he looked at the plain white candles being lit in annoyance. "Wil, I hate to be honest an ruin your damn fun but I don't have a good feelin' about this entire place.." he admitted, lightly tapping the paper with the pencil as Wilbur frowned. A bit more concerned, than most times. Schlatt either had a good insight to tell when something was going to go wrong, or it was just his paranoia talking... But he didn't shut down the idea regardless. "Well... We can do this, the voice detecting and that'll be all... Then we can head back to the car. Is that alright?" He asked, giving a light smile to him as the other sighed. Sounded short enough, so he complied.

"Yeah, how many questions are we askin' here?"  
"I was thinking maybe-"

Wilbur was cut off from what he was gonna say, as the still air in the room had felt...wrong. The candles suddenly, each one of the 4 blowing themselves out. There was something here, and neither of them didn't think there wasn't. The Ouija board laid untouched, the planchette laid haphazardly on the right edge of it. Still as could be..

Neither were comfortable...

And Schlatt...well he wanted to get the hell out, but he promised this. He wasn't a fucking wuss and neither was Wil. "... Lets just get this over with..." He muttered, having an uncomfortable hold on the journal, and Wilbur adjusting himself to be the leader of the board.

It was actually longer than expected of what they'd done, Introduce just Wilbur, ask for the name, which they only got the word 'Mons' from. Asked about the past, other things about the ghost in question, and all were mixed responses, or none at all. 'here' 'see you' 'burten' 'carpet', but the one that caught Schlatt's attention the most was one that, from what he saw, Wilbur was barely even holding the planchette as it spelled out **'be careful'.** What did the ghost know? But both of them were uncomfortable. Both heard he light creaks, taps, other small movement in the house... It might've just been their imagination, but it put them on edge none the less.

"Ah... Thank you for your answers- um... Goodbye..?" Wilbur had unsurely whispered into the darkness of the room, and the thing of sorts had moved to goodbye. Thank fucking god. A sigh of relief escaping Wilbur as he looked at Schlatt with a tiny, nervous grin. "See! We're fine!-" Another odd sound in the house... Specifically, the back and outside of the cabin. Where there was only more woods to be seen... Creepy.

"Yeah yeah, fine when I fuckin' say so, I'm lookin'. These sounds didn't start until we stepped in an I ain't takin' any chances." Schlatt had stood up from the table, frustrated at how fucking quite it was. It was never this quiet. Where was the frogs? Crickets? The birds doing their little nightly tunes?   
"Jason!!- Wait wait wait hold on-"  
"It'll only be a damn minute, sit back down"  
The cabins musty and old flooring creaked heavily under his steps towards the back of the house, or in attempts to find a door for the backyard. The uncomfortable short glance Schlatt held at Wilbur had told enough, as Wilbur kept himself quietly at the table as the shorter quickly left to the backyard.

This would be fine.  
This would be just fine.

It was probably nothing, and he'd probably scare off some squirrel or raccoon that would be taking over the place. The quiet atmosphere, the smidge of dampness felt in the wood of the table, of the old seating.... It didn't feel right to just sit still. Even for a few minutes passing, he had fiddled with the voice detecting device only a bit ... It wasn't the same without someone there. It felt agonizing, like a million eyes could be staring at him. But where? Where are those eyes at?? They already said goodbye to the board, but he didn't want to risk sageing the room due to the fact it could burn if he did.

It was **so quiet**.

It'd been well around 10 minutes by that point, and enough to make Wilbur anxious. Where was Jason? He said he'd only take a moment. But he had soon gotten up himself, and went to go follow where he saw Schlatt leave through. A few twist and turns through caved in parts of the walls, and seeing parts of old, rotten smelling carpets on empty rooms. But he had eventually reached what seemed to be the backyard. _**"Schlatt???"**_ He called out, stepping out onto the back smaller wooden deck of the cabin, and only seeing the dark, shaded woods. Did he go in there?

Every part of him told him: this is everything a horror movie character **shouldn't** do. But it's kinda blurred when it's to find your damn boyfriend. Though, maybe he was prepared! The smaller flashlight from before!! He had held it in his hands, flicking it on... It didn't really provide much light against the darkness. Stepping carefully off the deck, he slowly stepped into the grass and looking around at what glass sometimes shimmered off the light that was grazed onto it. Sometimes brown glass, pink, green, but mostly clear reflective old glass..

Twigs cracked under his continuous steps into the yard, and even looking around more before entering the woods. There was a fully intact bottle of... Something. It was empty, and the label was torn off of it. But he didn't want to touch it. Not yet at least.. some scrap metal here and there, but what really caught his attention eventually was the soft crack that he heard from the woods... Was somebody there? "Hello...?" He asked out, staring at the darkness before him that was the forest. It looked near to a leaf filled void that even a flashlight didn't navigate well through it.

But he might as well step in. A little bit, at least. Using the flashlight to try and follow a small visible dirt path going through the woods, as already cracked twigs had shuffled under his movements, and fallen leaves crunching at his steps. "Schlatt, c'mon, this isn't funny. You said you'd be a few minutes you fucking asshole..." He called out, but there was no response. None at all. He couldn't even see the cabin from behind him at this point, but he knew he'd gone directly straight so he could just go back if needed. The light from the flashlight hovered over repeating trees, winding down to further trees, and only barely seeing things from far away. The moon wasn't helping...

Taking a moment to stop, and going to open his mouth again... He stopped. There was a loud **crack,** sounding like it came from behind him. There couldn't possibly be someone behind him.... Could there? He could fight back pretty easily. Or, so he thought. Turning around cautiously, he flashed the light behind him, only for the light to not stretch very far. "Schlatt, is that you? Is that.....

_You.....?"_

The light caught a glimmer of something. Something metal. Something sharp. That of which, Schlatt didn't have on hand with him when they arrived.... He could feel his chest tightening, feeling almost like a deer frozen in headlights. Neither of them moved, but they were going to. Whatever this was it was **moving.** And it was armed. He could feel his hands getting shaky, the unsteady breathing, the panic settling in....

He took a run for it

He ran in a different direction, as fast as he possibly could. The rushing of leaves and sticks behind him, and heavy footsteps following quick behind him, it was a game of cat an mouse. Wilbur had dropped the flashlight, and now running only through complete darkness and took a hasty u-turn to where he thought the cabin mightve been. The panic, the fear, _everything was there and yet there was nothing but his and Schlatts lives at stake._ He felt out of body, even in that moment. The blur of reality as his legs carried him wherever they were going. Going, going, running away from a threat.

_Nothing felt real_   
_Nothing seemed real right then_   
_The idea of dying right then and there_   
_Running, almost feeling like your flying through an endless maze_   
_**It feels impossible, doesn't it?** _

Scraping his arms quite a few times on passing trees, thorns, bushes and even falling but quickly getting back up- he had to run. Not paying much attention to his surroundings, And only to run into a wooden wall that wasn't just a tree. It was an outer wall of the cabin. He made it back. He made it back.

Dragging his feet quicky against the ground and hurriedly up into the back of the house again, he had squeezed himself back inside and stumbling to find himself in a moldy room that was deserted. The dark, though, hadn't shown the old bloodstains showing through the old and worn carpets, as he had stumbled over to a corner of the room, and slowly, trembling as he curled himself in a ball. The unsteady breathing he had tried to silence, but biting down on his scratched and torn hands on his wrist to keep himself quiet- it wasn't helping. He could feel how trampled the carpet was, and how much this very room was once used. The wooden walls and the various splinters ready to snag at his skin..

He felt so tiny, and alone.

So afraid and watched.

Where was Jason? Was he already gone? The panic and absolute blown fear going through him hadn't even made him realize how dirty his face felt. The dried tears that he must've had while running, only for them to return again, hot and flowing, all in attempts to **stay quiet.**

But there it was. A creak in the wood. Something moved. Someone moved. Who was it? **What** was it?? It only made Wilbur tighten in around himself as he watched where he entered from. The windows in the room were more intact than most of the glass in the house then, dirtied by weather, and a thick screen covering them to where he couldn't see outside well at all, from the darkness. A softer set of footsteps had gone through the house. Slow, and soft... It was the person, looking for him. 

Hushed soft prayers under his breath, praying for him and Schlatt to get out of this alive. Alive and okay. The car keys were in his pocket, and his jacket? He left that on the table, didn't he? He couldn't exactly remember, everything felt so **there** but he couldn't focus on what he wanted to focus on. The cabin wasn't even that big, but he could hear the footsteps stepping closer to the room, thin molded walls being the only shield he had right then.

Stop....  
And continue only bit by bit, closer to where he was. His breath had hitched as he had scrunched, biting his wrist rather harshly to keep himself quiet. Where he even got this habit was unknown to him, it didn't matter, it never would matter if he didn't make it out of this. The cracking of some caved in walls was heard only slightly muffled, closer than he wanted the person to be. They were trying to move to go to **him.** He had no protection on him, he had nothing. Phones were in the car because they had no reception out here. 

Heavier creaks, cracking, and then a full blown crash... That of which Wilbur could see. His chest felt empty right then. Like he could throw up, his eyes wide and his wrist trickling with blood as he had let go of it. Part of the wall of what he was in had fallen, and soon the softer footstep had went in.

Right to him.

A masked face, in which he could only stare at the dark, dead eyes the shorter person held. Heavily jacketed, covered to no recognition, but a white cloth seen poking out of a pocket they had. It was a moment of dead, horrifying silence as they had stared each other down, and the advances towards him had only continued. He could feel his breath picking up, getting unsteady as he was fully against the wall he was cornered in. The hunting knife seen in hand, that already had a dark maroon red touch to them, rather than fully covered. 

It was only when they'd gotten close, and going to grab Wilbur when he himself had threw himself right at the person, to the middle part of them to try and knock the air out of them, lunging himself forwards and surprisingly, knocking them down on the ground. But the fight only took off from there. Multiple attempts to choke and hold down the person, and for them retaliating with slicing him various times in both his arms, face and stomach, but nothing fatal as of then. The person getting themselves back up with Wilbur dragging himself to shove them right into the wall, hearing a echoed **_crack_** throughout the cabin, and this had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

When shoved into the wall, the person took their chance to plunge the knife deep into his stomach. The sheer coldness, entering his body right then and the excruciating **pain** coming from it, was only making Wilbur hold them against the neck tighter instead of falling back. It hurt, it hurt like absolute hell as he could feel the burning warmth of blood seeping through his shirt, but he wanted this motherfucker to die by his hands. To see them struggle to breathe-

Again

Again, and again, and again.

The difficult plunging of the knife in Wilbur had gone on various spots on him, and the weakness was catching up to him. The pain, and the blood seeping out of him felt agonizing. It made him woozy, really to be trying so hard even through losing blood, but this chance of slightly loosening had only made him be the one shoved back on the floor now, with the killer towering over him, blood seeping darkly through his clothes and arms.

It was like they thought for just a moment, just to leave him there and let him bleed out. He won't survive it. But they can't just leave behind someone who could live like they did Schlatt, who was only knocked out with chloroform and a few strikes on his head to a tree to fully knock him out, dragged him into part of the woods pretty close by.... They can't risk that at all. 

Bending down, and roughly putting a knee on his chest, more out of how much fun it was to see how much pain he was in and how much worse it made it for him, the desperate cries of wanting to live had escaped him, tasting the blood coming in his mouth, and wanting to spit it out. "Goodnight...... _Will the ghost hear your cries_?" A humbly sweet voice had left the killer, as Wilbur stared at them in Absolute agony, unable to recognize the voice right then.

But it didn't matter. It didn't ever, matter. The forceful hold on his head to show more of his neck, and suddenly the world had gone dark for him. The last few seconds of feeling, being a cold, excruciating pain diving deep into his neck... And there was nothing more.

Wilbur was dead.  
From a complete stranger.

The lack of his struggles right then, had indicated to them that he was gone. A fountain of blood seeping from his neck, stomach and arms. He put up a good fight, but in the end he wouldn't of won anyways. Like it was nothing, the stranger left. They had nothing to pickpocket off of him, or take his bag or anything. They were just gone.

Schlatt, on the other hand... He was groggy, woozy, and pissed at the same time. The chloroform didn't last near as long as the killer might've wanted, but it was enough to keep Schlatt out of the way. A few bangs on his head against a tree was the cause of his bleeding head, and how he was hidden in a mildly deep pit under a hide of leaves and sticks. It didn't stop him though, from getting out even if he struggled. He heard, the footsteps in the forest when the two were running. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop anything, and god he only prayed that Wilbur was safe..

Having to lean on passing, blurry trees to make himself back to the cabin.... It didn't look the same as before from the backside. He didn't have hope in this at all, that maybe Wilbur found somewhere to hide and he was fine. He could feel the fear in his chest as he struggled to call out as he approached the house. "Wilbur....? Wilbur- are you okay....?" No response. Nothing at all. It felt agonizing, how quiet it was. Stepping up on the backyards deck, and quietly dragging himself to the house again.... He only got a small glimpse, at what made his heart drop.

Part of Wilburs head, his mess of hair, and the darkness shrouding his face. He was still as could be... His pace was more rushed, as Schlatt pushed out of the way old wood that blocked the path, soon stumbling quickly inside the room....that the carpet had quietly squelched over, with the blood it carried in it. Even for the screens blocking a majority of the light, he felt light headed, then. He could see too much. Too, too much right then. The blood seeping and staining the old carpet, the blood pouring from his neck, his arms, his stomach, how there was already bruises forming from a fight, blood coming out of his mouth, a bloodied bite mark on his wrist...

He was too late.

He wanted to throw up right then. He never saw someone dead before, and especially for it being his own boyfriend. Trembling, and only carefully falling to his knees in front of Wilburs head... He could only gently have a hold of his cut and bloodied face, as he didn't pay attention to his own and the sobs that threatened to spill. How they were already spilling..

_"I'm so sorry... I'm so fucking sorry"_


	6. In a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/n's:  
> • Ship- Schlattbur  
> • Theme- Unfinished Mystery?  
> • TWs: Vague description of murder
> 
> ─────── ∘°❉°∘ ───────

The cold, brisk and breezy morning flown through the dying leaves in the park, as a certain insomniac had sat there, alone on a bench. Quietly smoking and watching the dead grass that gently moved in the wind of the cold Fall morning. Schlatt hated it. He often worked so late on cases and managing the files of death reports, that he never let himself have time to enjoy what else there was. But now it was withering, and dead. Sticks piling up on the ground, some in piles from kids who were there the day before... It was only 6 am. And he could've been at home. Sleeping. But he let himself be out here, smoking away a memory of what he wanted.

He wasn't persay, a detective.. but he worked behind the scenes if the main work. Organising files and evidence, even sometimes being in the main room of discussion. This town didn't have much happening, except an odd string of murders popping up. All of which the bodies were so.... Peacefully laid. Hands folded, crossed, eyes shut, just pale, injected poison people that as far as he was aware, didn't link. But he didn't know.. he didn't know a lot. So much but so little ... Scratching at his face a bit, he didn't even seem to pay mind to the gentle cracking of twigs, that only seemed to get closer to him.

"... You're out quite early..."

An unfamiliar voice, making Schlatt jump off the bench an turning behind him. Only to see a tall, unfamiliar and soft faced man standing before him, holding... Two cups of coffee. The confused glance the other had, shifted to worry. Did he do something wrong?

He just wanted to be nice, and get a stranger some coffee... "hey- hey!! Its okay- I... Just wanted to get you a cup... I was um.. in the coffee shop across the street, and saw you sitting alone. So I hope you like hot chocolate..." The warm, humble tone escaped the taller man, as Schlatt had slowly let his guard down as the other approached him. He really was alone out here, wasn't he? Except for this kind stranger. Taking the cup, it was still near to burning hot. A nice change from the chilly weather.

Putting his cigarette out, he flicked it off somewhere else and took a small sip... That of which, was kinda gross. But he wasn't gonna complain about kindness. It was just too sweet. "Thanks... You really didn't have to do this. How much was it... I'll pay ya back-" Schlatt muttered as he shuffled in his pockets as the other quickly shook his head. "No no no- don't bother!! I just wanted to!! Please, don't bother.." the kind laugh from the other, the gentle smile...it really made Schlatt think there was all still good life in the world. Other than here. "Really?? I... Guess that's alright... At least tell me your name, then.. " he hummed, sipping slowly as the taller went to go sit on the bench, and Schlatt soon following.

"I'm Wilbur Soot... I've lived here for awhile, but I-" the man stopped, as if he had to rethink his words, a conflicted look on his face. "I.. just never seen you around before... Especially for such a small town... Are you new?" Wilbur asked politely, even if he was lying through his teeth. Schlatt, picked up on it. But he wasn't going to question it, he wasn't a suspect. "Name's Jason Schlatt... I've also actually been here for awhile, but i just don't go out much... Work, y'know?" He hummed, and Wilbur nodded softly, looking curiously at him.

"Jason, then... What are your dreams like?"

The question caught him off guard, stopping for a moment of his drink to look at Wilbur. Why did dreams matter? It was all sudden, but... He can't just not answer, right? Its such an odd but light-hearted question. "I don't fuckin' know, why?" He said, leaning back on the bench as Wilbur frowned. "oh, I was just curious... I- like looking into people's dreams, sorta... It says a lot more about a person rather than talking, you know...?" He answered, yet the honesty wasn't felt as schlatt looked at the dead trees surrounding them, wracking his head of why in the world he didn't believe him. Was it his work? Was work really getting to him?

But the case... They had no other clues except a scrawled out letter left on one nightstand. From the family, but certain things scribbled out. A note about how the husband was going to be late from work, telling his wife the code to the storage door that was entirely ripped off- and the only remaining word being "goodnight!" It was nothing more than strange.

"What do you do for a living..?" He asked somberly, but had kept his guard up as he looked at him, instead of his surroundings. He can't be blindsided... A small, genuine smile grew on his lips. "I actually write..! Freelance... I- just haven't published anything... I wanna work in a library too, and have my works there too... Is that self centered?" He lightly laughed, but Schlatt understood what he meant. Every person whether they wanted to be or not, was selfish. For their own happiness, gain, or whatever. Some, less than others. But Wilbur wanted to be proud of something, and that was easy to understand.

"... Well, why a library specifically? You couldd.. work in a office with editors-" "It- relates to the dreams question from before ... But it's nothing more than a desire.. " Wilbur stopped him, but with the plain smile on his face, Schlatt could tell there was only a mask that could be scratched away lightly to let the truth pour out...

What was this man hiding?

A lot, apparently.

  
The smile had slowly faded off Wilburs face, as he looked to Schlatt with a tinge of worry. "your so tense... Wouldn't you need to rest soon...?" A low, uncanny mumble from the other, that made Schlatt almost drop his drink. He was already tired, but his body slowly felt to get heavier, and heavier... What the fuck was in the drink? What the fuck did Wilbur do? "Ii... I-i gotta go home..." Schlatt grumbled, tired panic settling within him as he struggled to get off the bench and leaving the half emptied cup behind. Yet wilbur made no move to go after him, sitting and just... Staring.

He was doing everything to combat the repeated dream. To make things end right. Schlatt didn't even make it far, as he stumbled to the ground with a heavy thump and the cracking of twigs... He was passed out. And in reality, there was no drug in Schlatts drink. This was the reality they were both tied to, and one Wilbur had to break. Each dream with a different person, and now: him. The sun had slowly begun to graze upon the dead park he stood alone in, as he had picked up the unconscious man, and slowly walked back to his own far off car. Schlatt was just another of the devils work Wilbur had to do.

And he wasn't complaining about it either.


	7. Is Vienna Better Than Home?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teehee slimesoot make my brain go brrrrrrrrrr i want more content of these two..... :(

His hand had lazily, but comfortably intertwined itself with the others hand in the moment of rest. There was too much on Wilburs mind to try and rest, and seeing his sleeping boyfriend beside him hadn't helped settled these thoughts. It more just made it difficult to have the idea of sleep, as Charlie had slept soundly through the dead of the night then, with Wilbur. But even the comfort hadn't helped ease the unsureness he held.

There was a part of Wilbur. A part of him that wanted to go somewhere entirely new. Somewhere far, far away. But where? The last time he had been to another place without someone accompanying him, a friend had driven him there to just leave him alone at the end. There were more in his life he wanted to visit. But none of it, made him want to let go of Charlie. He needed him. He needed him more than he ever really realized.

Adjusting in the bed and the soft, aqua green covers, he rested his head gingerly on the others chest, staring into the darkness that was Charlie's room. It was all so… so, very  _ him _ . Everything was something Wilbur himself wouldn't of chose, and he loved that out of Charlie. The gentle light coming from the computer on its respective desk, a soft glowing shelf for his DND collection… a nerd. Wilbur loved this nerd with his entire being. And Charlie had loved him just the same. 

"Sometimes I wonder, Charlie… about going to other places … see the world for what it holds from me…" Wilbur whispered softly, the steady heart beat heard from charlies chest, slowed from his sleeping breaths. "I wonder what of the world I'll see before I die… and I don't want to do that without you. I've planted my Roots with you, and- those can always… be pulled, if we change… but I'm scared of that change with you…" he confessed softly to the other, even if the other slept undisturbed by this all. He was glad Charlie didn't hear it, and yet he needed at least a tiny voice of reason.

That of which, none was there in the moment.

The soft patter of rain had begun to be heard lightly on the roof, making Wilbur lift his head up a tad to look up at the ceiling. Nothing of which had caught his attention… but he had gently held himself closer to Charlie, unaware of being the one to wake him. The pitter on the rain only grew stronger by the passing moments, light rumblings of thunder beginning from a distance. Charlies tired free hand had gently rested itself on Wilburs head, the light stroking of his hair making the taller shiver at the touch… but it was nice. 

"Charlie…? Why are you awake…?"

"I felt something and woke up… why are you awake?"

A gentle, tired laugh out of the shorter one, and Wilbur leaning into his hand that Charlie kept on his head. It wasn't a weird, nice. It was just comforting… " Believe it or not, I can't sleep..." He mumbled, looking at Charlie who just stared at the ceiling tiredly, but adorningly. He loved listening to Wilbur, whatever he had on his mind and whatever he wanted to admit. Wilbur, loved the same. "You've been having trouble the past few nights, is something going on..?" Charlie asked, beginning to lightly stroke Wilburs hair again, but the taller was quiet to this. 

"You can tell me anything, whenever your ready..." 

Charlie added, that of which made Wilburs face heat up and move to hide his face in Charlies shirt. "I know… I know… im just-... Hm" he hummed. He wasn't ready to talk about it, but if he said that it'd come across wrong. Like he was hiding a problem from Charlie. Which in reality, he was. But he didn't want to admit that to himself. "You talked a lot about seeing your Mom again… and your brother. Just yesterday you talked about seeing them again… is that bothering you?" Charlie asked, untangling his held hand from Wilburs to wrap the arm around him, as Silence was the confirmation Wilbur had given. 

"It's strange, Charlie… you know more than I know myself, and I'm supposed to be the knowing one" he tiredly laughed, and looking at charlie to see the smile grow on his lips. "Let's not  _ travel _ too deep into that, I'm just a good boyfriend" He hummed, and silence filled the space between them for a moment… before being replaced with laughter between the both of them. 

"You didn't just make a pun out of this-"

"I know how to point things in the right  _ direction! _ "  "

Oh my  _ god _ " Wilbur laughed loudly into charlies shirt, as the two stuck close together between their giggle fit… but what Charlie said had caught him off guard.

"What do you mean, by pointing me in the right direction, Char…?" 

He softly asked, as Charlie had begun to sit up just a bit, and Wilbur adjusting to lay his head more in his lap as the shorter sighed. "I know you miss home… I know you miss your adventures… you told me a lot of them. Italy, some part of Canada, a trip to Florida-" he laughed at the memory, but looked down lovingly at Wilbur. "I know, you miss that… and I love you, for whatever you do." He reassured him, but Wilbur didn't think Charlie really.. understood.

"I don't want to leave you, Charlie… I care too much to just let you go and see some sight elsewhere. I don't want to see anyone else each night, to tell me awful jokes, to let me hold you in the dead of nights, or- even times like this… I don't want to tell anybody else i adore them- so, so much that I'd want to change the world for them and them alone… and to also have that, from  _ you _ ... i don't want that to change… that's my problem." He corrected charlie, as the other had a dumb smile stuck on their face from the words alone. Charlie adored this man, and Wilbur adored him just the same. 

"I'll go with you wherever you go, Wil… I'm not gonna be gone  _ that  _ easily." Charlie had said after a moment, and Wilbur lifted his head as a moment of a pure mix of shock an relief had filled his expression, Charlies hand falling off his head as the two stared for a moment.

"You'd… go with me? Anywhere?"

"As long as its with you, and we aren't dying, I'll go anywhere with you."

A large, loving and relief filled smile had taken on Wilburs tired face as the taller had held Charlies face softly in his hands, and closing the comforting gap between the two. A long, silent, but comforting moment between the two. Charlies hands rested easily on Wilburs neck, and the two separating. Slouching back slowly into the sheets of the bed, Wilburs hands carefully ran through Charlies hair as the shorter now had his head in Wilburs shirt.

"... I love you."

"I love you too, Wilbur.." 


	8. Odium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> • Theme- Graphic Violence mentioned, Tribute Writing  
> • TWs: Implication of Childhood trauma, Mentioned murder, AGAIN GRAPHIC VIOLENCE BABY
> 
> OK SO LET ME EXPLAIN A THINGS BEFORE WE BEGIN  
> Wil's a detective. Schlatt's a murderer. okkk? Schlatt kinda kidnapped wilbur and. why? idk, he did. i literally did this as a tribute chapter to someone but we don't kno nobody babes. N E WAYS, schlatt went into wilburs house, stole a family picture, etc etc, honestly if yall ask ab what book its a tribute to you can just ask. The ending made me go "hm. this can go a different direction" and I DID IT.   
> have fun!

_ "What do you  _ **_think_ ** _ you're fucking doing??" _

The low, harsh and rather concerned tone had escaped Wilbur, as they were uncomfortably close. His hands, just barely shaking at the amount of pure, unfiltered anger that seethed through him as he held Schlatt against the wall. It was so, so very close. The hitched breathing of the shorter ones, and Wilbur not even beginning to see the sick, delighted grin Schlatt held. He liked it. Being like this, lack of any control, seeing a side of him that never showed itself in public... But that wasn't on Wilbur's mind. He didn't care for the man that separated him from everyone, from everything he would have cared about. To still have a life, and to solve a simple fucking case.

The soft, uncomfortable yet yearning noises coming out of Schlatt had quickly changed their tune, as Wilbur was the first to raise his fist. Even for noticing so soon, Schlatt was stuck. The red on his cheeks had quickly turned to a running red river of blood, as punches had begun to be thrown. No warning whatsoever had prepared Schlatt for the onslaught of continuous hits, each blow hitting harder than the last. Again, and again, and again. The tight hold on Schlatt’s shirt had made his knuckles turn white, as the thump loudly resonated through each hit.  **Again. And again. And again.** He didn’t want to stop, to put Schlatt in his place and let him know he wasn’t as powerful as he might’ve believed. It was pure rage. Pure determination, bubbling within and only on one target on his lonesome. Forever would remain alone, and never to be forgiven. The attempt Schlatt gave of lifting his hands to protect his face had only had him thrown to the side, as he stumbled onto the ground, blood dripping heavily from his nose and onto the cold, hardwood. The photo had fallen out of his hands, and unsteady footsteps going over and picking it up.

That was Wilbur's family.

Shaking, bloodied hands had gently held this photo, looking at the brightly grinning child in the memory that was faked by all of them that day. He was so, so very different back then. He ignored the fear he constantly felt. He ignored so much, ran from so much, saw so much... It was hard to think back to in that moment of rage, as it made his head hurt. He wanted to do more than knock this killer to the ground. He wanted to make him  **hurt** .

"Do you think it's- it's cute or something, Schlatt? What's your fucking end game here?" He asked a slight tremble in his voice, as he looked at Schlatt, still knocked on the ground from before, and blood smeared on the floor. The other didn't want to look. With such a twisted mess of feelings- he didn't know. He felt sorry for Wilbur but despised still the motive of it all. That motive had already fallen apart, with the sight of his sibling being cornered by drug dealers and the knowledge of knowing they were looking for him. What if that was Wilbur? He was looking for him, and there he had him. Bloody, broken nose, bruised face, as he found an opening from his growing desires. "you wouldn't fuckin'  _ believe _ me, y'know..."

Slow, careful words had left Schlatt as he went to stand again, using the wall as a prop to hold himself up. Turning to the Detective, neither smiled at one another. A bloodied face, and one seething, wanting- no.  **Needing** , an answer. "I've watched you for a while, frankly... Before the death's ever actually started. I was fascinated in and by your work... Nobody blinked a fuckin' eye when I asked about you and your daily go-to's. Small town things people don't question, isn't that right? Your friends, knowing your family, your hobbies, and even some of your habits. Like how I know you overwork yourself to avoid somethin' so much that you exhaust yourself beyond being able to work. But only really from what I was told, I could only see your family as pretty normal. But today, I saw something different from that picture, and your hiding place... " Schlatt slowly explained, as Wilbur held the picture close to his chest.

He chose this path of work, to prevent what happened to him. He could've been a child social services worker. He could've been that, and take kids out of awful homes. But the system didn't work. It never worked. From one home to another, was there ever really any good foster parents? From what'd he'd seen... Yes. There were some shines of hope among the deep pit of darkness that his hand had forged for, and trying to save what he could of the light of hope kids had.

They all deserve better.

"M-my... My life is none of your business. Like yours isn't mine- and I could've looked, Schlatt. I could've looked around here for anything fucking about you. For you and your  _ cold-hearted _ , self-centered history. What drove you, what made you do ANY of this-" "It's not like you have a god damn say, Soot-" "I think I FUCKING DO, Jason!! You're selfish! Your cold, your awful, your not even that fucking bright! This town might be fucking SMALL but that's exactly your  **DISADVANTAGE** . A small selection of people and it'll all fucking LEAD BACK. TO  **_YOU_ ** . ALL YOU APPARENTLY WANT IS ME? then GET me. Fucking TAKE me if you love being able to get away with everything! Or fucking kill me. It's not like you have many other things to do with me!"

The disarray of a word vomit had spilled from Wilbur, near to full force as Schlatt had only kept pushing him until he was left in silence, all over again. They both knew things neither wanted the other to know. But he was wrong. Wilbur wasn't going to be able to leave, and it wouldn't be that hard to just... Pack and leave. Not much here needed to be saved. If he was so selfish, wouldn't he kill him for his benefit?

But they were left in silence.

Wilbur, shaking with the anger left in him. This hadn't exhausted his being yet.

Schlatt with the now dried blood on his face, the pain through his face, but he'd just clean it later. 

All of it could be  **fixed** .

"Wilbur... What advantage would I get from Killing you? The satisfaction? The relief? Wil... How am I selfish if I'm doing things, not for myself... But for you." A lie, straight through his teeth as he kept his distance from Wilbur at first. "I can't just take it again if I already have you... I think you're better at deducting a killer like that... What, what'd those notes of yours say again? You thought I was in my 40s to higher... Well built, somethin' else I didn't bother to read... Almost like you were fascinated in me like I was for you." He slowly talked, inching closer to Wilbur as Wilbur watched with a dark, dead stare. Not at him, but at... Nothing. Straight ahead, and the photo he still had in hand lightly shaking from it all. 

"You're not leavin', you might as well get comfortable with me and enjoy the time you have. It isn't that hard to treat me human, you know... "

" With such a low motive, you aren't. Your a selfish far struck monster in the skin of someone who could've been more than this... "

Schlatt stopped, as Wilbur muttered this to him. Neither was okay. Neither would ever really be, okay. "I'm more than you'll ever really see of me. And maybe you'll see that one day... but really, for now.." he hummed, Schlatt taking the moment to rip the photo out of Wilbur's trembling hands, and looking over it again. "You wanna start talking about what this shit is? I'm not scared to give you the same treatment you gave me, y'know… You're lucky I even let it slide" he spoke rather calmly, a smug grin on his lips as the dried blood remained on his face. Uncomfortable, but it made Wilbur look directly at him. He wanted to do it again. Again, so many fucking times did he want to hurt this bitch.

But at the end of things, he was stuck here. No sympathy for him like Schlatt had given to him. That of which he never wanted. The anger that he held had unwillingly shifted itself to an empty, desolate feeling within him. A lack of hope, but too much determination to just give up. A hopeless cycle he’d gotten himself into. “My family wasn’t the greatest, despite what I've told others…” he murmured a slow beginning, to what this bastard wanted to know. “That spot in my room I have is similar back to where I used to live… I hid in spaces like that away from them. Even if it was late into the night, I’d just sleep in it… Is that what you wanted to know?” He said with a heavy sigh, unwilling to explain the rest of it as he looked at Schlatt dead in his eyes, yet there was an uneven feeling between the two. Wilbur’s lack of cooperation with him, but it was better than nothing… wasn't it?

“Why do you kill, Schlatt? I gave you my motivation for my career… I think you should do the same.”

Wilbur broke the silence, as it only overlapped itself again. “Wilbur, I’m sure your job ran you into a few religious families, am I wrong?” He asked as the taller was caught off guard. But he nodded, regardless. “I was raised in a catholic family- if you can even fuckin’ call it that… and I was one out of many in that family. I was disowned because I didn’t agree with them. I didn’t agree with their- Objectification, over anyone. I didn’t agree to just be… what they wanted.” He said slowly, but the softening of his tone at the end- didn’t give Wilbur any sympathy for Schlatt, still.

“I’d say we’re equal’s, for the most part now…”    
“We’re far from equal.”

Wilbur’s tone never shifted away from the low, uncaring distaste he had for the killer that stood in front of him. “If we were equal, I would’ve killed my parents because of what they did and that nobody else knows but me. If we were equal, my motivation wouldn’t even  **be** because of them. It’d be a large part, but- with your mentality schlatt… We’ll never be equal.” He stepped forward to the shorter again- that seemed to bring back a step for Schlatt, and stepped in the puddle of blood that ran from his nose a moment ago. “If we were equals, I would maybe even sympathize with you… I thought at the beginning of this case, you maybe- just  **maybe** had just… a little care. Just a little. There was that short frame where you stopped killing, but it was only to watch me solve  _ your  _ mess. To find where I live. To find me…” Step by step, the game of cat and mouse would slowly begin, but it wasn’t who Schlatt ever expected to be the Cat, here… Each step Wilbur took, backing away again and again. 

“I really can’t sympathize for someone who kills such innocent people… Maybe one day, someone will kill you and get away with it… 

I'll pray for that day.”

The uncomfortable, chilling silence resonated between the two, and feeling like a deer in headlights, Schlatt couldn’t move. He was trapped against the back of the couch. Nowhere else to run, and right where Wilbur wanted him to be. And it was saved, right till that moment. The knife Wilbur stole from the kitchen, and a gentle, shaking hand placed on Schlatt’s shoulder.

Schlatt fought back, panicked, but within a matter of seconds, Wilbur had his man pinned against the couch and held the knife close to his throat. Schlatt started breathing quickly and hitched, and tried his best to fight off the once kind-hearted, overworked detective. Now almost homicidal, all because of  **him.** “Hold on Wilbur- Hold on!! Hold on hold on- Don’t fucking do this!!” “What’s stopping me, hm? What’s stopping me from letting your blood spill all over this worthless house??” “I don’t know- I don’t know--” “That’s right, not much of anything, yeah…? Not much of fucking anything.” “I’ll let you go! I’ll fuckin’- do whatever you want, don’t fucking do this…” Schlatt had pleaded, and the detective’s guard had been let down… what a shame, for just a moment. 

In that short span of time, Schlatt had taken the opportunity to rip the knife out of Wilbur’s hand, and a true struggle began. Wilbur attempting to hold down Schlatt’s arms, and yet failing as Schlatt ripped the knife free.

Wilbur being cut across the face, forcing him to defend himself **.** But Schlatt had too many advantages, and Wilbur tried desperately to free himself, but Schlatt held him easily as if he were the one who was stronger. Wilbur’s efforts only made Schlatt go to greater lengths to kill him.

When Schlatt’s other arm was free, Wilbur went to grab it. Schlatt threw his knee down on the back of Wilbur’s leg, breaking the bone. As Wilbur tried to stand, Schlatt brought the knife up to Wilbur’s throat. The taller did everything in his power to struggle, but he knew it was at a standstill. Silent, dead stares right into the other's eyes. "Did you really fucking think I'd actually let you go? With my status on the line? Did ya really fucking think that? Or were you just  _ that  _ desperate?" Schlatt said softly, keeping the knife against Wilbur's neck as he himself had nothing to say. False, ruined hope. 

Wilburs eyes seemed to show something a bit more than annoyance at what was being said, and a fleeting, almost hopeless grin graced his face. Schlatt stood still, unsure of the smile he held. Feeling vaguely guilty that he'd actually been enjoying the fear a bit, but suddenly aware that Wilburs might be giving something away. What was he giving away? Why was the detective smiling? Was he already lost?-

No, not really.

Wilbur took one last sudden shot to fight back against him, grabbing Schlatts white-knuckled hands, even if he'd cut himself on the blade as blood flicked itself on Schlatts shirt, and soon enough a high, guttural scream escaping the killer in this situation. The knife itself digging deep into his shoulder.

**Again** .

Pulling out the knife, and shoving it in again, and again, and again, and again- even with Schlatt stumbling back on the couch and using his good arm to try an fight back, nothing seem to block Wilbur off for very long. Blood spilled, on the floor, the couch, the nearby walls, clothing and their faces. There was nothing but pure resentment wilbur held for this cold, cruel man. And he was only doing a favor for the dead. There was no  _ justification  _ in his actions, but there was  _ internal  _ **_justice_ ** . Work hard, even if your hands get dirty. A heavy price for a ending to only satisfy himself, in the end.

Wilbur was no better than Schlatt.

He wasn't any better. Death didn't pay back for what he'd done. Nothing would make what Wilbur did excusable. In law, sure, but by heart; no.

Slumped painfully on the couch, pained breaths escaped schlatt as he tried to hold desperately what he could of his shoulder. There was so much, that hurt. And to think he had second-guessed Wilbur, turning him a  _ good person,  _ In his eyes. He never thought he'd be the victim state. He couldn't have been, but look where he was now. 

Silence, filled the unsettling ambiance of the room once again.

No words were passed, as Wilbur pushed Schlatt back on the couch, gently holding him by his neck so he'd look directly at him. And only, at him. A soft, sickening sound of the thrust of the knife, had entered Schlatts stomach. And it stayed there. Wilbur let go of the knife with his bloodied, cut up hands as he watched Schlatt writhe in agony of the knife being shoved into him.

But there was an attempt to pull the knife out, and it was a wonder the fucker still had fight still left in him. That of which, Wilbur wasn't allowing. "This is what you did to all of your victims, didn't you? Watch them writhe until they died...?" Wilbur asked, hushed among the deafening silence of the room. Yet there was no reply. Wilbur kept a bloody hand on the knife, firmly keeping it where it was. Even pushing in a little, as the other kept attempting to fight back- even if he was in morbid pain. "You sat, let them die in streets, and… well. I'm no better now, am I?" He whispered, simply watching the knife, along with moving it occasionally, instead of Schlatt's  **disgusting** face.

There was a point, he stopped struggling.

There was a moment, he stopped moving.

And the silence didn't feel so bad anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can call this a spite chapter if you want ;)


	9. A Really Bad Description of Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> • Ship- Tedbox, Ted n Noah  
> • Theme- Unsure? Hurt an comfort?  
> • TWs: implied stalking from a stranger  
> • Dedicated to a friend, i looked LITERALLY high and low for how to write Noah, and WHAT DO AUTHORS GIVE ME??? NOTHING. So apologies if this is off character HFKEKAKZ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had a tedschlatt thing but i didn't like how i wrote it so im not posting it here lol  
> if you get mad ab this literally just don't look at this entire book, why r u even here

72%.

The light of the phone screen only vaguely illuminating the room, as the soft light showed Noah sitting alone, in his mess of a living room. The closed curtains, the moonlight peeking through the crevasses of them, and uncomfortably sitting curled up on his couch. The phone screen dimmed after a short period of time, only for him to turn the phone right back on, and staring at the photo on his screen.

Some stranger, that tagged him in something that genuinely caught him off guard. Photos of him throughout a normal day, far away, and even him talking with friends. The post in question didn't blow up, of course. It was just another fucking random person, out in the stupid fucking world. But it felt **agonizing** that someone- that of which he didn't know, followed him around. Specifically, to do this. Did they follow him to his address? Did they do anything else? Even looking at the profile more, nothing gave of who else they might've seen. It was only him, posted. Only he and the account made only a few days ago.

How much did they have on him?

Though... he flinched when his phone vibrated, and the notification at the top of his screen that a friend of his had messaged him. Ted... Ted? What did he have to say?

Oh.

Opening the text only showed him sending his nightly 'banger meal' picture. Only because the two shared a joke of who'd have the best one by the end of the month, but Noah had already given up on the joke a few days ago... The message read _T_ - _'dude, you're missing out on this thing I forgot how it's spelled, where's yours?'_ but Noah had paused to look back at the darkened kitchen for a moment, before looking back at the screen.

_N- 'thinking about the liquor cabinet, think that'd be a banger?'_

Message sent, and the moment of silence as he waited for a response. Which, was surprisingly quick.  
 _T- 'No, not really. You stopped for a bit, what's up? Wanna call?'_ he read out quietly to himself, and didn't really respond at first. What was he supposed to say? Oh, someone was stalking him? Oh, everything was hunky fucking dory? Which in reality, none of it was good. He didn't exactly feel safe, where he was at. Even for just staring at the screen, it soon changed to the phone buzzing, and Ted showing that he was calling... Oh. So no, wasn't really an answer. Hitting the green button, he soon held his breath in awaiting what Ted wanted to say.

"Hey, dude... Are you alright? Somethin' going on?" A soft, genuine voice, and hearing the chatter in the background of various people talking, noises of glasses clinking, things of the sorts. But it was slowly fading out of hearing range, as he soon heard a door shut, and Noah hummed a bit. "Where are ya, Ted?" He asked, avoiding himself for a moment as he could hear a short, unsurprised laugh out of him. "I was eating out with some of my friends I hadn't seen for a bit. I stepped outside so we could talk-" "Don't freeze your fucking ass off for me- how cold is it over there?? " "Pretty cold, but I'll be fine! I'll be fine, Noah, I called for you, not for me... " Ted laughed, but his tone softened again as the other frowned.

"I'm just... I'm fucking worried, Ted. I'm really, **really** fucking worried... " He whispered, as the silence was now shifted on Ted's side. "... What happened? What's going on?? Do you need someone there??" Concern had raised in Ted's voice, as Noah had slowly moved himself off his couch, and moving to one of the covered windows. Even if peeking out, it looked normal, he didn't trust it. Not one **bit.** "I- ah... Can you just... Talk to me for a bit. Tell me about your day, or- something. I'll explain in a bit, I just want to hear about you, for a sec... " He mumbled, running his hands across the scratchy, old curtains. He hated those curtains. They were pretty fucking ugly, he just hadn't bothered to throw them out yet.

"... Well, I woke up later than I was hoping, but I guess I had a productive day. Edited some videos, played some fuckin' fight game with Trav-" "You tried to invite me earlier, but I was out in town... " " Well, yeah! But Noah- I'll actually freeze my ass off if I'm out here too long, can you tell me what's wrong??" Ted shifted the topic right back to where it needed to be, as Noah sighed.

"some... Stranger. I don't fucking know who they are or their intentions or fucking- something... But I got tagged in someone taking pictures of me, out and about. Someone's been fucking _stalking_ me ted, and I don't fucking know if they know where I live or what- but... The photos were things I did only a week ago. And I'm only guessing they're doing it daily... " He explained, and he could practically feel the fear Ted held from the other line.

"Holy... Fucking shit. Okay, Noah... Do you have anywhere else to stay for- I dunno, a week or so? Just to get the account off your ass and not track you?"  
"No, not yet- I only fucking found this out an hour ago, I haven't planned anything... "  
"Okay, let me think- hold on..."

And ted's line had suddenly gone mute, as Noah could only guess he went back inside. the silence of the room only returning again and giving Noah the silence to think, again. Ted, was genuinely a close friend of his. Someone he appreciated, and honestly... Maybe a little too much. Thoughts crept in the back of his mind, once in a while. But those thoughts he wasn't ready to face himself, and ended up shoving them away. Ted was- what was the right description?

He was kind, caring, words felt kind of like a blanket being thrown onto you, or watching a movie you'd seen a million different times. He was like a memory of... Something. Noah was really bad at the whole 'description' job of how to describe people, but Ted was... Ted. Comforting, kind, considerate. He was just- that. All in one tall fucking bundle.

The line was soon off of mute, and he had heard the clinking of glass again. "Noah, you still there bud?" He said, and Noah hummed a bit. "Yeah, still here." "I could try and go drive and pick you up, let you stay with me for a week- or however long you really think's safest. It'd take about 3 hours for me to get there... Are you up for that?"

Wow.

Noah hadn't really even expected that request, as it didn't really process at first. Ted was willing to help him get this **freak** off his back, and willing to let him stay for a little while. Something nagged at him, saying he shouldn't. He'd enjoy being there too much, and wouldn't want to leave when the time came. But it was safety, over the thoughts telling him he shouldn't. "That'd- that'd be fucking phenomenal, Ted... I'll start packing for a week, Will your car fit a- I dunno, small-ish suitcase?"

The question had made Ted laugh, as Noah heard a car door shut and the light beeping from the car starting up. "Yeah, don't worry about that. It'll fit, you want me to pick you up some food when i get there?" He asked, and the other smiled lightly. He felt... Okay. Just this moment, he felt okay again.

"No thanks, I'm good."  
"Not even that thing I got? Dude, you're STILL missing out."  
"I'll just fucking take your leftovers... I'll see you soon"


End file.
